


Goodsprings to Freeside

by Potato_Being



Series: New Vegas [1]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Brain Damage, Gunshot Wounds, Medical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-09 23:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11115423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potato_Being/pseuds/Potato_Being
Summary: The Courier wakes up not even knowing his own name. So he goes off in search of answers.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I played the entirety of New Vegas + DLC in a week. Here's a fic.  
> Expect this to be the structural difference to the Fo4 novel like the three main Elder Scrolls series I have are.

The bloodied mess on his forehead makes him seem older-- so much so that Doc Mitchell can't even tell the kid's age until he's practically finished sewing his face back together. Kid can't be more than twenty, _sixteen_ at the least, and when he wakes up he looks at the man who saved him with such a childlike innocence and confusion that Doc's not sure whether he wants to let the kid leave. His instructions of 'head on over to that machine, carefully,' are followed up by him trying to run to it, failing, and falling.

"What's your name?" The kid looks confused. "If you can remember it." Horror streaks across his features as he struggles to find the right pieces of knowledge.

"I'm a courier." He says. "Thats. I'm the Courier." He repeats this several times before stopping, looking everywhere but Mitch. "I can't remember my name?" His voice cracks.

Overall he's healed, the only issue being glaring holes in his memory and the fact that he seems leery of anything combat, instead working more towards talking things out, practicing medicine and being 'neighbourly'. When he leaves he hugs Mitchell.

 

He knows his name isn't 'Courier', but at this point he has no way of figuring out what his actual name is. He tried to make Doc give him one, was gently rebuffed, and keeps tracing the raised scar on his forehead, just above his eyes and slightly to the left. Memory damage. Loss of some motor control. He kicks his feet and can't hold still, but moves slowly, carefully, thinking out every step of his path and then some.

Goodsprings was a mess for him, he held onto Victor up the hill to the graveyard, staring at where he'd been buried solemnly, before wobbling back down the hill and trying to help out. He stumbles into the gas station, nearly screaming when the caravan runner points a gun at him. He uses the only tool he really knows-- his mouth-- and talks the man down, who then introduces himself as 'Ringo', asks for help, and Courier agrees wholeheartedly to help him in any way he can.

Courier tries to talk the Powder Gangers down, fails, and gets shot again as he tries to use the varmint rifle Sunny gave him properly.

"Crouch, scope, aim--" is the repeated mantra the Courier mutters as he shoots their leader in the face, and the few left standing turn and run screaming into the desert. He passes out again, waking up in Doc Mitchell's house again, and the man chides him for not following the one order Mitch gave him. Courier laughs quietly, apologising for getting blood on the Vault suit.

 

There's a broken robot in Primm. He feels immediately attached to it, as he carefully repairs what he can and brings it back online. It beeps at him gratefully, and he hugs it, finding someone else who's just as lost and in need of fixing as he is.

He's losing sensation in his legs as he walks. There's obviously something wrong with what's happening, but he can't figure out what exactly it is. He does, however, recognise that something is deeply wrong with Nipton. He'd helped Primm out, that was simple enough, and they'd pointed him towards Nipton. That town, however, is on fire with people on crosses lining the road. A man in a dog skin lectures him, and when the Courier-- Courier Six-- disagrees with him, he invites him to attack. It's a staggering thing, his rush forward, and the man easily dodges the kid's old knife, kicking him into the ground. As Courier Six gasps in the ground, he's left with orders to tell people about the horrors the Legion has and will commit. He watches them go, black spots encroaching on his vision.

 

He stumbles into Novac, flirts with Manny, throws up in the bushes after trying whiskey and buys eighteen dinosaur figures in the span of an hour.

After he found Boone he was horrified when he led Jeannie May Crawford to her death, awkwardly asking her to come look at something in front of the dinosaur, fidgeting with Boone's beret, sliding it on his head and moving around, always with a good few feet between the two. When the bullet enters _her_ head he nearly panics, shakes and sits down, legs bouncing, as Boone approaches him after realising the kid isn't going to move. 

He's handed the beret and offered nothing but nervous laughter, up until Boone loses his temper and the courier-- that's how he introduces himself, 'I'm the Courier'-- begins chattering about getting shot in the head, and she won't be coming back because _her_ brains are all over the ground now, that sniper rifles at a distance are better than pistols at two feet, and Boone kneels in the dirt in front of him, grabs his shoulder and shakes him. The kid seems scared for a moment, before relaxing slightly. Boone suggests he go with the kid to keep an eye on him. The Courier tends to hold his hand as he wobbles down the road.

 


	2. Chapter 2

The Courier doesn't hesitate in attacking the Legion in Nelson. After deciding that killing Legion soldiers is a solution rather than a problem, they head into the town to free NCR soldiers. Boone is caught between horrified and impressed as the Courier uses his own dead weight to knock a recruit into the ground and stab him in the neck before slowly rolling off the corpse, asking Boone deeply personal questions.

"Why do you know your wife is dead? She might not be. We could go looking!" He seems excited at the prospect, and Boone feels sick. "I want to kill more Legion. They're bad, and I don't want to be bad." He doesn't move, lying next to a corpse and staring at a cloudless night sky. His face twists into something sad. "Why are you so shy?" He doesn't look at Boone. "Are you lonely?"

"No." The Courier takes this at face value and slowly stands up.

"We… have to… go through along… railroad…" He stops, slowly looking scared. "Why… why not… the mouth… can't…" He sits in the dirt, staring at his knees in shock. "The highway. The crossing to the highway. Go past that, up the road, reach Boulder City." He huffs and stands up, turning and walking away without looking at Boone.

 

Motor control, memory loss, and apparently some linguistic skills are getting messed up, if Courier's newfound stammer is anything to go on. He can't focus on anything, and _knows_ this, because even if Doc Mitchell got all the metal out of his head he couldn't fix the squishy parts inside, and Courier's urgently waking Boone up at midnight telling him that Courier _knows_ he's getting worse, that he's not going to make it to Boulder to find Benny, and by the time he's listing off all the ways he's beginning to fail Boone's got a hand on his shoulder. He doesn't do anything to stop Courier from tackling him, holding onto him like a child, and when Courier pulls away he's shaking, leaving the building they're hiding in, and when Boone follows him he's vanished.

 

He can find Boulder City, that's simple. Follow the road. Maybe avoid nasties. He gets a quarter mile in when the tremors in his legs force him down, and Boone's followed him the entire time. Courier doesn't say anything when Boone picks him up and carries him towards his destination.

 

"I need a name."

"You've got a name."

"It's not my name."

"Do I look like the kind of person who's good at naming things?" Boone sets the Courier on the side of the road at dawn, stretching his arms out.

"I can't remember my name. I should have a name, Boone, everyone has names. Except me." The Courier sounds petulant.

"I don't know, Ranger?"

"I don't like it."

"You just told me to name you!"

"I don't like the sound of it."

"Fine." Boone says shortly, thinking. "Scout."

"No."

"I couldn't even pick out a name for--" Boone stops, closing his mouth, spotting a rusted sign and finding one of the words on it. "Marshal."

"I like it." The Courier--Marshal-- says quietly. Boone picks him up again.

 

Marshal came from somewhere in the desert. That much he remembers. He doesn't remember where, how old he is, who his parents were, whether he has siblings, or any previous friends. He remembers Tops, parts of Freeside, and vague memories of the Kings, but that's it. He tells Boone everything he can remember, his tone growing desperate the longer they walk.

"Boone I'm going to die. They got the metal out of my head but I'm going to die. You _can't_ put _bullets_ in someone's _head_ without _problems_." Marshal says, pulling at the loose threads in his shirt sleeves. "Will you bury… me? No, no… wait I don't want to be buried, last time I… was buried was last w-week, I don't want that again. Unless I'm d-dead. If I'm dead could you bury me? Make sure I'm dead, I don't want to have another trip to the doc--doc--doctor's."

"You're not going to die, Marshal." Boone says, staring straight ahead.

"You don't--don't know that. I can't walk anymore, I've got tremors, I can't--can't talk right, Boone I've never even _liked_ combat, even if I wasn't dying I'd be dead because I'm useless in the wasteland." Boone glances down as Marshal stares up at him, eyes wide. "I think you're burning."

"That's normal."

"I want that." Marshal points to a wide-brimmed hat left by the road. Boone sighs, setting Marshal down once more so he can get the hat. It looks ridiculous, about a size too big for him, but he seems happy with it, so Boone picks him up again and keeps going.

 

"When I die, if we haven't found Benny yet, could you talk to him? Ask why he shot me? Maybe show him my body, ask him what's the deal. Maybe shoot him? Is that what people looking for revenge do?" Marshal slowly walks down the road, hands shaking. He's forgotten his name again, once more becoming Courier Six.

 

He talks down Great Khans while supporting himself on Boone's arm. His eyes are wide, unfocused, but he speaks clearly, carefully articulating concepts and requests. The Khans free NCR soldiers, and he refuses any payment offered. Boone feels a mess of emotions, starting with a level of respect for the kid.

 

He knows he's putting a lot on Boone's shoulders, asking a man he barely knows to take him to New Vegas so he can find the man who killed him-- but his legs fail, and he knows that you can't escape death so easily. He survived the bullet but the aftermath _will_ kill him.

He organises and reorganises his bag, the only thing his shaking hands can do. One teddy bear, one t-rex figurine, one 9mm pistol, two boxes of ammo for the pistol, a straight razor, a knife, a machete, the varmint rifle Sunny gave him, ammo for the rifle, eight stimpaks, brahmin steaks, purified water, 200 caps, 5 legion coins, twenty NCR dollars and an old book. He looks at his belongings. They sit on the floor of a gas station. He picks up the pistol. He'd end it in the gas station, but then he wouldn't know why he got shot, or why Benny needed a platinum chip. He puts the gun down.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Freeside is a horror show trying to get through. Eight people try to mug them, ten want caps, there are fights breaking out around them, and Marshal currently can't see. He's screaming incoherently, apparently trying to fix his vision by yelling, and Boone has to set him against a building and use Marshal's pistol to drive off another thug. It's respect and an intense desire to protect what is ultimately a kid who can't be less than four years younger than him, Boone realises as he shoots a man with an axe in the head.

"They need caps to get into the Strip." Boone explains. The med-x Marshal took has cleared his vision for the moment, but his legs are shaking again.

"I have some. People keep giving them to me."

"It's going to be a lot."

"I need to find Benny." Marshal is intent, eyes slowly unfocusing, and Boone obliges him. They stagger towards the securitrons guarding the gate, Boone hands over the caps needed, and Marshal eyes the bots nervously as they pass through.

Marshal leans on Boone when they find Benny.

"Why'd you shoot me?" Is the first question out of his mouth. "Benny, you were t-two feet from my f-face and couldn't do that right. I'm here as proof you couldn't get one execution right. _Benny._ You _fucked up._ " He doesn't seem too upset, surprisingly. More frustrated than anything else. 

"I hit what I was aiming for. Guess you had brains to spare. Or are you just thick-skulled? Either way baby, this is good news. Maybe I can finally sleep at night, knowing you didn't die." Benny says. He doesn't stop glancing between Marshal and Boone, and Boone hopes the guy knows that if Marshal has a seizure while they're talking, Boone's going to attack him.

"Benny. I had to be carried here by some guy I found. Benny. Why didn't you use three--three bullets. Benny. Why didn't you… do your job… right." His use of Benny's name sounds like a mantra, fighting to keep his focus. "What's… my name?" He says it quietly, and in that moment everyone can see how young and small he is, and Boone resists the urge to shoot Benny the same way he shot Marshal. "I… don't know my… name."

"What say you and me cash out, go somewheres more private-like? Any questions you got, I'll answer." Benny leads Marshal and Boone to the elevator, and once they're in the presidential suite the calm exterior vanishes.

The man still seems shocked, whether from Marshal's survival or the fact that he's pointing at a chair for Benny to sit down at, Boone's not sure. Marshal sits as well, though it's caused by a carefully-aimed push away from Boone and he hits his hip on the way down.

"Now that you and me's got some privacy, I gotta ask-- how is it that you're still living?"

"A Securitron d-dug me up and a doc in Goodsp-springs did the-- did the rest." Marshal says.

"And once you were vertical, how'd you track me down?"

"Hows d-don't matter." Marshal laughs, a high broken sound more akin to a pained dog than a person. He probably doesn't remember most of it.

"A magician don't explain his tricks, I get it. I guess that's enough scratching around at first base. Tell me, which way is the wind gonna blow?"

"If you're thinking we can w-work together I wanna hear it." Marshal tells him.

"You help me, and before long the Chairmen will rule all of Vegas, dig? With enough robot muscle to back it up. You'll get a sweet, juicy cut of that action. But until that day comes, I'll keep you on retainer, and pay bonuses for 'special missions'. How's that sound?"

"Deal." Marshal says.

"Jackpot, baby! I knew we'd see eye to eye! Here's a start on your retainer-- don't spend it all in one place. And the Prez is yours for as long as you want it. When you're ready to saddle up, come find me down on the casino floor and we'll plan the next step of this caper. Ring-a-ding, baby! Ta-ta!" Benny leaves, and Boone recognises the air of a man that's just pulled a con. He moves between Marshal and the elevator, looking down at the kid. 

The elevator dings and Boone turns to face the doors seconds before the four bodyguards from down below charge into the room. Marshal screams, scrambling for his pistol and firing wildly. Boone moves out of the way before he gets shot, using his knife to fight them off.

 

Marshal's crying. Shaking. Trying to stand up but his legs refuse to help. He's dragged himself to the intercom as it buzzes, Benny telling him to stop following the Chip. He collapses against the wall and stares at Boone, mouth hanging open as his body spasms violently. He's trying to talk but he's not making sense, trying to get Boone to do _something_ , and the sniper picks him up and heads for where the Followers of the Apocalypse are holed up, so maybe they can fix him.

The courier looks up as Julie comes in, trying to calm him down, promising assistance however she can, and all Marshal can do is stare at her.

"First, I'd like to know your name."

"I'm the Courier." He says after trying to speak for a minute and Boone feels sick.

"His name's Marshal." Boone cuts in. Julie turns to him.

"How long ago was he shot?"

"A… two-week-- one? No, how--" Marshal babbles, looking at Boone.

"I'm assuming two weeks." Boone tells the doctor. Julie nods, before motioning at someone outside.

"We can attempt to speed up the healing process with chems, but there are risks."

"Like?" Boone is on the defensive.

"Addiction, namely. It could also just not work. Or, the brain could be far enough gone that nothing works."

"Chem me up, doctor." Marshal says in a short-lived state of lucidity, voice a high whine giving way to anxious laughter.

 

It's a month. Marshal forgets where he is, where he's from, his own name-- but he knows he's the Courier, that's who he is. He tells rambling jokes to the researcher who works in the tent he's in, the man responding with sarcasm.

"You don't have to stay." Marshal says while lying on his back, drugged to the gills and staring at the ceiling. "You can go home."

"Told you I don't really have a home any more." Is the only response as Boone sits at another table, reading one of the many books lying around.

"You can go. You don't need to wait around for me to die, you can just assume that I did."

"You're not dying." Arcade is the one to speak, a blunt statement from where he's nose deep in pre-war texts. "Your brain's healing and you've stopped having Grand Mal seizures."

"Then why do I feel like I'm dying?"

"Probably the med-x."

"Oh." Marshal says thoughtfully. "Arcade, why are you named that?"

"Because my mother named me 'Arcade'."

"You know what?"

"What."

"Your name may mean you… play games… but you know what?"

"What."

"I'd never play with your heart." Marshal looks like a dying fish, head tilted towards Arcade while too weak to move, grinning like an idiot. Gannon looks over at him incredulously.

"Do you two want a room?" Boone asks.

"Fuck off, Craig." Is all Arcade responds with.

 

"There's… two--three people on the ridge." Marshal says absently, eyes wide and unseeing. "They're on the ridge. No, they're cacti. It's three cacti in a row. No, there's… there's two people. I know them. They know me. They're… safe." His face twists up, about to cry again. "There's… it's… I know them. Why can't I know them?" Boone turns away as the kid whimpers, trying to remember.

 


	4. Chapter 4

"The world is shiny." Marshal murmurs, staring at the tent roof. "It's very bright. What if I took all the blood out of me and put it in a box? Would that work? What if I took out my brain and put it in a box?"

"You would die. Both of those would cause you to die." Arcade tells him.

"What do you do here?" He's forgotten their first conversation again.

"I'm a researcher. Not even a particularly good one."

"Why are you back here?"

"Because not all Followers are 'people persons'. Julie decided to stick me back here on account of my 'lack of a bedside manner'." Arcade wonders why he ended up studying cacti in the same tent as a long-term patient if he was supposed to stay out of the way of patients.

"What do you research?" it comes out as 'wha-dya re-zurj', but Arcade understands him.

"Finding alternative treatments for common illnesses and injuries. Stimpaks out of barrel cacti and other fantastical improbabilities. As far as fruitless wastes of time go it's quite noble in its aims."

"Do you like it?" Marshal seems genuinely curious, and he probably is. He'll just forget their conversation in a few days again.

"I'm not complaining, it's important work."

"Why do you speak Latin?" he remembers some of Arcade's mutterings, then. Which means Boone probably heard him too. And Boone remembers everything.

"Because I can."

"No, where did you speak-- why do you s--" Marshal lets out a sharp screech, and hits his head on the mattress.

"Please don't damage your head more." Arcade slightly regrets the assholish reply.

"Why do you know how?" Marshal asks loudly. Arcade sighs.

"I picked it up over the years. From pre-War books, gladiator movie holotapes, sheet music. Not from the Legion." Arcade explains. Marshal nods, satisfied. Boone doesn't look convinced.

"I want a dog." Marshal announces.

 

When Marshal has to get his eyes checked and have his next dose of drugs he pitches a fit, yelling and fighting, and Arcade holds him down as Julie and another doctor check his eyes and inject him. He stops moving, panting as he stares at the ceiling, mouth wide open. He's alive, if completely out of it. He says something in Latin to Arcade, who pales and focuses intently on his work.

"What was that?" Boone asks when Marshal's gone to sleep.

"Nothing."

"Bullshit."

"You really don't want to know."

"Tell me. Now." Boone leans over Arcade and the man feels very small suddenly.

"He said 'I'm going to rip out your intestines and wear them on my neck." Arcade says quietly, not looking away from his work.

"How does he know that?"

"He doesn't. Not consciously. Probably some memories got dug up, he used them. I doubt he knows what he said."

"How would he know Latin?"

"You're asking me." Arcade looks up at him.

"You're the only one here."

"I have no idea. Same as I did maybe, picked it up from wherever he's from. Could have been in Caesar's Legion for all we--" He stops talking and leans away as Boone puts himself entirely in Arcade's personal space, glaring at him.

"He's not Legion."

"Never said he was. I said he could have been. And there's a past tense in there." Arcade tells him.

"He's. Not. Legion." Boone's voice is little more than a growl and Arcade wonders in what creative ways the NCR sniper will kill him.

"Okay. Fine. He's not Legion." Boone backs away.

 

Marshal's humming as he rolls over, sliding his legs off the bed and beginning to try and stand. Arcade is there to catch him as he stumbles, and when Marshal stands up and looks at him there's nothing but unbridled joy in his face.

"The world doesn't have big black spots!" He shouts, beginning to turn around. Arcade stops him before pointing to Boone.

"Before we let you go we need to know you can walk. Go over to him."

"You remind me of a nice man in Goodsprings. He got the bits of bullet out of my head. Made me walk around his house and answer some questions before he'd let me go." Marshal says, slowly wobbling towards Boone, who extends a hand to him. He takes it, grinning, and looks at Julie as she approaches the tent. She signs off on him, and he tries to bounce, failing and leaning on Boone.

"Would you come with me?" He asks Arcade before they leave. "Boone's… not a doctor. And I'm not a doctor. You can f-fix people."

"Fine. But I'm not performing emergency surgery in a gunfight, got it?" Arcade tells him. Marshal smiles.

 

He apparently can't remember how to tie his shoes. He stares at the laces on his boots, apparently hoping they'll tell him how, before he makes rough knots that won't come undone without a knife later on. He can't walk in a straight line, but he holds onto Boone's elbow and as they leave Freeside he's humming, face turned to the sky.

 

"I don't want to be... alarmist or anything, but maybe you should ditch that Eyebot. Robot. Whatever that thing is." Arcade says, eyeing ED-E as it floats towards him, apparently trying to make friends.

"What's an eyebot?" Marshal asks.

"What?"

"You said eyebot. Is Eddie an eyebot?" He seems excited.

"No, I said robot. Similar words."

"Then you said robot twice." What he lacks in general intelligence, which isn't much, he makes up for in perception. Arcade swears Marshal could poke holes in _politicians_ ' arguments.

"Slight stutter." Arcade tells him. Marshal gives him a sad look, Arcade's lying obvious.

"Well, I love Eddie anyway, they're shaped like a friend." Marshal says firmly. ED-E beeps happily.

 

Marshal walked into the heart of Legion territory and came back leading a pissed-off Benny by his bound wrists. As he sits with Arcade pulling bullets and metal out of him, he talks to Benny like they're friends.

"I'm not killing you. Boone might, because he's Boone, but I'm not." Marshal says.

"Any reason why?" Benny seems genuinely interested. Marshal shrugs.

"I think the part of the brain that wants revenge and stuff got broken when you shot-killed me." Marshal says casually. Benny has the decency to look uncomfortable.

"So you're gonna he-help me. We made a deal, rem-remember? We made a deal. I help you get rid of Mr House. I found Yes-Man before we went looking for you, and I know what we have to do now."

"So what's your plan for that, doll?"

"You keep the families in line. They already know you, and I'll keep Mr House and the NCR away. Do stuff for House, be a… a…"

"Double agent." Arcade supplies as he wraps up Marshal's elbow.

"Agent double. I'll do that, and then when I've gotten everything I can from House, I'll kill him, and then we'll run New Vegas." Marshal says, more chipper than a man talking about betraying and murdering his benefactor should be. "Already got the Lucky 38, nice windowless apartment full of dust an' stuff. So you stay out, and when I bring you in we can…" He trails off, staring at nothing. Arcade leans over, checking his eyes and then keeps working.

"What in the goddamn?" Benny asks.

"Absence seizure. He'll wake up in a few minutes." Arcade says, entirely unaffected, as he fishes bullets out of Marshal's leg. Benny looks disturbed. When Marshal wakes up he blinks several times, frowns, and then grins at Benny.

"So I'll kill Mr House, and you'll keep everyone else-- no wait, that's not the right one. You'll kill Mr House, and I'll-- no."

"I keep the Families in line, and you do your thing, sound good, baby?" Benny asks. Marshal nods. "You wanna explain what's up with those seizures?"

"Brain damage affecting the frontal lobe, motor control and memory." Arcade lists off. Marshal nods.

"I can't walk in a l-line!" He says excitedly. "Or hold things!" He lifts his hands, his right one spasming violently. "One time I p-punched Boone by-by accident."

"I still think you should kill this guy." Boone says and Benny jumps, not realising the NCR sniper is in the room.

 


	5. Chapter 5

He wakes up screaming, fighting the sleeping bag and Arcade's shushing him, hand over his mouth to hopefully not alert any animals. Boone's got his rifle out. Arcade gets a fist in the face.

"No no no, no ropes, no hands, no, no-- It hurts why does it hurt, it's going _in_ but it's already _out_ but I can _feel_ it why does it _hurt_ \--" Marshal wails, staring at the tarp.

"Ghost pains." Arcade tells him.

"Don't want ghosts, want it gone, why's it here?" Marshal rolls onto Arcade, holding onto him. The researcher stares at Boone. Boone shakes his head. Marshal pulls his face up to stare Arcade in the eyes. "I should have shot that bastard until there was nothing left." He says quietly, close to a hiss, which doesn't make the fact that he's staring Arcade down with large brown eyes any less uncomfortable. "I'm going to burn his damn casino to the _ground_." He's too close to Arcade, teeth bared and hands tight on his shirt. "Burn the whole Strip to the fucking ground, I'll shove that chip up House's ass, no one will--" He stops, letting Arcade go and dropping backwards onto the bag, arms spread wide. "I think I know who I used to be." He says, very quietly, and begins to cry.

 

When a deathclaw throws Arcade across part of the ruined road, he honestly thinks he's about to die. It doesn't help that both Boone and Marshal are still dealing with the deathclaw and he's forced to sew himself up. He loses consciousness halfway through the third stitch.

Marshal doesn't hesitate to dive for him, injecting him with a stimpak and med-x before continuing his stitches. He trusts Boone at this point, enough that he doesn't think the man will have problems dispatching a wounded deathclaw, and Boone doesn't. He plants himself behind Marshal, watching for more enemies as Marshal cleans Arcade up.

Arcade wakes up to a face full of dirty jacket, courtesy of Marshal. The kid has pulled him into his lap, supporting his neck and head, and before he can say anything about how humiliating this situation is, Boone shoots a gecko in the head without a word.

"It is my doctor's opinion that this… could have gone better." Arcade says flatly. Marshal laughs, face twisting up in something unabashedly genuine he hasn't seen for a while.

"You ok-okay?" The smile is replaced with concern.

"Fine. All things considered. Did you sew me up? Make sure all my insides are in?"

"It wasn't that bad." Boone says bluntly.

"It was a surface wound. A big surface wound." Marshal says.

"Fantastic. Let me up, would you? As much as I enjoy being held by a good-looking man--" He's pushed off of Marshal's lap, the grin returning to the kid's face negating any offence taken. Marshal helps him up, and chooses to hold his hand as they keep walking down the road.

 

He wants to know who he was before the bullet. Everything he can find points towards the Legion, and he feels sick when someone recognises him and panics. He doesn't dream, except when he does and wakes up screaming, his vision red with blood and crosses. He doesn't know who he used to be and it terrifies him.

"Do I have parents? I have to have parents." Marshal says, rearranging the contents of his bag again. "Or have to have had-- why does those words work like that? Have had to have had something? What--" He stumbles over his words, even with the Followers keeping his brain from completely dying he still has problems. "I th-think they're in Utah. Or maybe they're somewhere else. I think they're dead. I don't think I knew my dad. I remember moms and regret." He chatters as they walk towards Camp McCarran. Arcade is paying attention to figure out what trips Marshal up, Boone is listening because there's nothing else to listen to. "So I think I had a sister. Or was it a brother? What if I find them? What if they recognise me but I don't know them? What happens then? 'Sorry, I can't remember you because someone shot me in the face', I don't want that to happen."

"It's highly unlikely." Boone says.

"It's also high-highly unlikely that someone su-survives a bullet to the head, but I did that too. I think I used to be pretty lucky. Got good chips in the casinos. I think I had a passport onto the Strip too. But that's gone. I think Benny took my stuff when he had the Khans bury me."

"Why are you casually mentioning this?" Arcade asks, slightly disturbed. It's _not_ normal, none of this is, and he can't even tell if the kid has trauma from it because nothing he says gives any tells. He speaks in the same upbeat tone as when he's discussing the weather or good routes through the Mojave. Maybe that's how he's processing it.

"Because it's not a big thing?" Marshal asks.

"Getting murdered is a big thing." Arcade argues.

"I wasn't murdered. I'm alive."

"With brain damage and missing memories."

"It's not doing me any good to be upset. I'm m-making the world better now." Marshal says, frowning at the ground.

 

"I told you it was a possibility that he was with the Legion." Arcade says casually.

"Don't." Boone snaps.

"Okay, fine." 

They'd been cornered by Legion assassins, and one had recognised Marshal, called him Domitia and told him that he'd have been better off staying put since now  _he_ was coming for his property, that he should have surrendered the last time they'd met. Marshal had shot the man in the head and sat in the dirt, shaking.

"He wasn't lying. I know when people are lying and he wasn't lying. Who is Domitia, that's a feminine name what  _happened--_ " Marshal stares up at them, terrified. "I know Latin. I recognise it, I know I should know it-- know should know should know, that's another bad sentence-- how far did I get there--" He pales, curling into the fetal position on the ground. Arcade sits next to him.

"You aren't Domitia. You're Marshal." He says. Marshal nods.

 

They reach a highway outpost as they head south again, Marshal apparently wanting to wander. He smiles at the young woman in heavy brown robes sitting quietly at a table, and when she joins them he bounces with excitement.

"So I've got a question. A little while ago I had a run-in with a 'Brotherhood of Steel'. Know anything about them?"

"Oh I know this one! They shoot lasers out of their eyes!" Marshal shouts before his expression changes. "No that's… that's not… they use energy weapons, they um, recluses." He shrugs and looks at Arcade for help.

"Wow. Can I just say, you have completely defied my initial expectations." Veronica says, and it's unclear whether she's impressed or concerned. It's mostly surprise that bleeds into her voice.

 


End file.
